When Song Xijun saw Ruan Qing'an again, it was already evening, and she simply called him out of his dormitory.
When Song Xijun walked downstairs, Ruan Qing'an was standing under the streetlight. She was wearing black high heels, had a tall figure, and had changed into a fitted navy blue short skirt, revealing her bare waist and thighs. Her skin was as white as snow, and her wine-red long hair was draped over her shoulders, with a beautiful slight curve.
As soon as Nguyen Thanh An stood under the streetlights waiting, quite a few people came up to chat with him, as if he were standing under a spotlight.
She was quite popular, enough to attract attention and draw admiring glances.
Ruan Qing'an politely but coldly rejected any attempts to strike up a conversation, but a smile only appeared when she saw Song Xijun.
"Song Xijun, over here, hurry up!"
"...Yes, it's here."
Song Xijun's Adam's apple bobbed slightly, and his dark eyes were filled with emotions that were hard to discern—since his previous life, Song Xijun could never go back to the so-called past. He struggled to get up and stand on the top, but his heart still fell into the mire.
He wanted to pull her down, to drag her into the abyss he was in...
It was revenge, and also a vile desire.
Ruan Qingan, however, did not notice and continued walking on his own.
She continued, "Li Ming is determined to get you. I heard from a friend that he's organizing a meeting of all student representatives tomorrow to summarize recent work, and most importantly, to announce this heinous incident."
"After the conference, the punishment will probably be announced."
As Ruan Qing'an spoke, he led Song Xijun to the art studio of the school's art department. It was getting late, and only one lamp was still on. The painting tools had already been set up inside.
Upon entering the studio, Ruan Qing'an immediately pressed Song Xijun down into a chair: "Wait here, my friend will come over in a bit to paint you. She has studied body painting."
"Body painting?"
Song Xijun countered with a question.
Ruan Qing'an ignored him and just kept sending messages on her phone, as if she was very busy.
After waiting in the studio for a while, Ruan Qing'an still hadn't seen her friend. She checked the time and couldn't help but feel anxious.
As Song Xijun stood up, she said, "Let's go back first—"
"Never mind, I'll do it myself."
Before he could finish speaking, Ruan Qing'an had already pushed Song Xijun's chest. With a dull thud, the tall young man was already half-lying on the chair, his hands instinctively supporting himself on both sides, somewhat dazed.
But Ruan Qing'an straddled his lap, holding an oil painting tray in one hand and pressing the other against Song Xijun's chest, looking down at him with her eyes downcast: "If she won't come, I will."
"You...cough, you should get down first."
Song Xijun's expression darkened slightly. Ruan Qing'an was sitting very firmly, almost pressing down on him. She was soft and covered in the smell of smoke and cold fragrance. The close proximity made things dangerous for a moment.
But Song Xijun wasn't a monk, so he couldn't remain unmoved by the temptation.
But Ruan Qing'an seemed not to notice, and pressed him back down with dissatisfaction. She looked down at Song Xijun's eyes and gently hooked his glasses off with her other hand.
Without the cover of her black-rimmed glasses, Song Xijun's narrow and overly aggressive eyes could no longer be hidden.
His gaze was locked onto Nguyen Thanh An almost like that of a hunter.
She simply pressed his head down and gestured across Song Xijun's face, saying, "Don't move. Let me see where it's easier to strike. I'm quite skilled at approving sick leave slips from the school clinic."
"Are you going to fake my injuries?"
"Of course, otherwise you'd be perfectly fine, and wouldn't you look pitiful?"
Ruan Qing'an said matter-of-factly, moving up a little and kneeling on Song Xijun's waist. He could even feel the smooth lines of her muscles through her clothes.
She was comfortable sitting there, but Song Xijun's face darkened.
Before he could speak, Ruan Qing'an had already cupped Song Xijun's face in one hand, put down the oil painting palette with the other, and picked up a paintbrush: "Don't move around, or it will poke your eyes."
"...Couldn't you have drawn it somewhere else?"
"It's not impossible."
Before Song Xijun could even breathe a sigh of relief, Ruan Qing'an had already lifted his clothes and pressed down on his waist: "Then this is fine."
Song Xijun: ...
Immediately following, as the brush touched the lines of the abdominal muscles, a slight itch was felt. He couldn't help but let his Adam's apple bob slightly, and the desire in his eyes deepened little by little. But Ruan Qing'an painted seriously, layering the color of bruises.
Song Xijun had been watching for a while, but as time passed, her wandering thoughts gradually dissipated. Outside, it was pitch black, and under the lamplight, only Ruan Qing'an looked focused.
The itching sensation from the paintbrush suddenly stopped, and the next moment a small head draped over his waist. Ruan Qing'an leaned against it and fell into a deep sleep.
He stood up slightly and saw Ruan Qing'an sliding down, so Song Xijun subconsciously reached out to support her waist.
Just then, the studio door was pushed open.
"Sorry, sorry, Ruan Ruan, I'm really busy—"
A girl wearing a painter's hat ran in with a bag slung over her shoulder, bowing repeatedly to apologize to the art studio until she looked up and her voice abruptly stopped.
Before she could speak, Song Xijun interrupted her directly: "Are you the friend she mentioned?"
"Yes, it's me. My name is Zhao Xiaohan. I'm from the Academy of Fine Arts. My advisor had something to do today, so I just finished my work."
Zhao Xiaohan said softly as she sat down on a chair. She looked at Ruan Qing'an, who was still asleep on Song Xijun's body, with his arm forced to support her slender waist.
She gestured for Song Xijun to extend her hand: "I'll draw this side. Don't disturb Ruan Ruan's sleep; she's been busy all day and is tired."
"You must be Ruan Ruan's childhood sweetheart, right?"
"Yes, it's me."
"So you two have a pretty good relationship. I haven't seen Ruan Ruan go through so much trouble in a long time."
Are they on good terms?
If we're talking about a relationship of bullying and being bullied, then at least in the past, Nguyen Thanh An did maintain this relationship very well.
Song Xijun held Ruan Qing'an in one arm, while letting Zhao Xiaohan draw on it with the other, but the itch she had felt earlier was gone.
His gaze fell on Ruan Qingan, the dark green in his eyes growing even thicker. Song Xijun's eyes were half-closed, but she could still feel a strange emotion surging within her, like waves crashing against the shoreline, neither too much nor too little, yet relentlessly striking the rocks, trying to wear away the stone with each drop of water.
The name Ruan Qing'an was murmured between his lips, and Song Xijun tried to understand it.
But ironically, the clearer she remembered her past life, the less he could understand her...
【Affection Value: 0】
By this time, Zhao Xiaohan had finished drawing Song Xijun's arm, which bore bruises and scars from the beating. Unless you looked closely, you couldn't tell that it was a drawing.
She carefully instructed, "It's just for scaring people, don't worry. The main point is to create a visual effect. Just pretend it hurts a lot when the time comes."
"Thank you for your help."
Song Xijun agreed, but was even more curious about how Ruan Qing'an would salvage the situation tomorrow.
...
The next day, after making all the preparations, Dawn, as expected, convened a meeting of student representatives in the name of the student council—everyone knew the reason for it, but in this school, as the son of a school board member, no one dared to offend Dawn.
Ruan Qingan and Song Xijun, who were targeted, have already been sentenced to "death".
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